


your protector’s coming home

by schrodingers__cat



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Both literally and figuratively, CHAOS SIBLINGS CHAOS SIBLINGS, Gen, I mostly took from the books and 2019 show, half story half character study, little my calls snukin “pointy” and it’s true, little my gets to have feelings!, moominvalley plz let them be gremlin siblings, rip sniff 2k19, so they’re both pretty young in this, the title and notes are from a fleet foxes song! it’s very nice, they’re both very protective of moomintroll, this accidentally got heartfelt whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 17:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schrodingers__cat/pseuds/schrodingers__cat
Summary: “Wake up, Little Mymble. Don’t be afraid.”“I’m not even afraid of ants!”





	your protector’s coming home

**Author's Note:**

> _Keep your secrets with you, girl_  
_Safe from the outside world_  
  
(_You walk along the stream, your head caught in a waking dream_)

(“Wake up, Little Mymble. Don’t be afraid.” 

“I’m not even afraid of ants!”)

Little My had been having what could’ve been considered the single greatest nap of all time. She had been laying on top of Moominmamma’s nice woolen yarn when she was so _rudely_ awakened by Moomintroll’s little green friend. She’d even had to prove her bravery to him—ridiculous, as if she’d ever be startled by a boy in a ridiculous pointy hat. 

“Well, well, you’re a surprise,” he said mildly. Little My had the distinct feeling she was being mocked, and most definitely did not care for that. 

“Well-well _yourself_.” 

Of course, this was Snufkin, so she didn’t really get the reaction she was hoping for. If it had been Moomintroll he would’ve started arguing right back, and they could have snapped at each other without really meaning it until they’d shouted themselves silly. Snufkin, on the other hand, only started humming and stirring pea stew over a campfire. 

Well. If there was going to be food...

The next thing she knew, she was sitting on a surprisingly comfortable log, and the pea stew she was slurping was absolutely _delicious_. Certainly not up to Moominmamma’s standards, but was this kid giving lessons? It might be useful if she ever decided to go off on her own.

“The main thing in life is to know your own mind,” he said suddenly.

Ah yes. A famous nugget of Snuff-wisdom. 

(Needless to say, Moomintroll talked about him a _lot._)

“You said it, pal.”

Now, she knew, things were going to get interesting. Because Snufkin had up and vanished two days ago. 

One moment he’d been with Moomintroll at Moominmamma’s garden party, the next—gone. Poof! Even his camping site had been taken down. 

She’d really hoped he’d been kidnapped or something. It would have been fun to go on a rescue mission. But no, apparently this was _common._

“I knew a fellow like him back in my day,” Moominpappa had said, comforting Moomintroll with a pat on the shoulder. “He’ll be back when he wants to be.”

“I shouldn’t have taken him to the party,” Moomintroll had sighed miserably. 

“It wasn’t your fault, dear,” Moominmamma said from the kitchen, where she was cleaning party dishes. “You only wanted him to be there, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You just picked a strange little one for your best friend.” Moominpappa gave Moomintroll one last hearty pat on the back that left him gasping, and then they all went on to play a few good card games as a family before Moominmamma forced them all to bed. 

And now Snufkin was here, with her, in the middle of the woods, when it was _summer_ and he was supposed to be off doing stupid things with Moomintroll like fishing and collecting weird river dragons. 

He had _better_ have a good reason for being here. 

She waited for his explanation. 

Which turned out to be complete bull, of course, but she hadn’t expected any better. Her mother had warned her about vagabond types. Always talking about ‘needing to be free’ and ‘wanting to be alone.’ 

(She disregarded the memory of Snufkin at the garden party pulling his hat farther down over his ears, fiddling with his hands, looking around nervously for Moomintroll—who’d gotten distracted joking with Sniff, still holding both of their drinks.) 

But then—he mentioned a villain! And yes, she’d been quite right—things were about to get very interesting indeed. 

And when she asked him if it was a big or small villain—and he’d said small, with a fury in his soft voice she didn’t think he’d been capable of—she’d grinned.

“Good. Small villains break more easily.” 

He smiled back. 

This was going to be _fun._

*

The villain turned out to be the new park keeper. Little My honestly couldn’t blame Snufkin for that one. That Hemulen was rather awful. 

Of course, then he took out the Hattifattener seeds. 

Little My did not like Hattifatteners. This was definitely _not_ a product of her horrific desert island trip. They were terrible, horrible, ugly little things with dangerous electrocution powers, and she had a sense of self-preservation.

Unlike Snufkin, apparently, because he was _growing_ them. Inside the park. They’re not plants, why do they come from seeds? Actually, why does it even matter? He was _growing them inside the park so that they’d attack and electrocute the park keeper._

Hadn’t Moomintroll said Snufkin was the sensible one? 

The awful little things crept slowly toward the park keeper like Snufkin was the general of their army and the Hemulen was an enemy battalion. 

...Everything she’d heard about Snufkin made him out to be some sort of great bringer of stories and wisdom and song, or a mysterious wandering ghost, or a nature spirit who brought springtime wherever he stepped. Little My supposed maybe he was a little bit of all those things.

But she watched him _giggle_ at Hattifatteners electrocuting some poor sap that had gotten on his bad side. And then she watched him almost frantically try and escape the little woodie children, even as he took care of them. And... even though she was still bitter about his vanishing act—

By Moominpappa’s tail, if she didn’t want him on her team the next time she went on a pranking spree. 

—————

Moomintroll couldn’t believe it. He’d woken up late! He and Snufkin were supposed to go fishing today, and it was already half past ten. He probably shouldn’t have stayed up so late, but he was just so excited! 

He quickly threw off his pajamas and ran out the door, not even bothering to grab breakfast. Snufkin was walking along the stream outside, apparently talking to—air? ...Perhaps someone had gone invisible? No, no, he would’ve said something. 

Moomintroll ran over to him, only a little out of breath once he arrived. 

“Snufkin!”

“Moomintroll,” Snufkin smiled. 

“Are you ready to go? Sorry I’m late, I just—“

“Hey! Aren’t you going to say hello to _me?_” 

Moomintroll jumped back, thoroughly startled. Out from Snufkin’s pocket poked Little My’s head, glaring indignantly. Moomintroll looked up, somewhat scandalized, at Snufkin—who shrugged. 

“She said it was warm, and it was a rather chilly morning.” 

“Hmph.” She crossed her arms. 

“Now now, Little My. I’ve got to get going with Moomintroll.” 

“Ugh. Fine.” She threw up her hands in exaggerated exasperation, and hopped out of his pocket. Moomintroll watched her go, still sputtering a bit out of shock. 

“Well now! Are you ready to go? I scouted out a lovely-looking spot earlier. Looks like there’ll be quite a few minnows.”

“I—I’m—I mean—yeah, yeah, I’m ready!” 

—————

“Alright, Pointy. Listen closely.”

“Pointy?”

“Yep. Now listen closely.”

“It’s after midnight, Little My.”

“That’s never stopped you before, has it?”

“...Fair. Continue.”

Little My probably should have explained what she was doing when she dragged Snufkin awake at what was probably one o’clock in the morning (Hey, she didn’t know. She didn’t check before she snuck out, and Snufkin didn’t have a clock). But she hadn’t been able to resist the drama of it all.

“_We_ are pranking Sniff.” She pointed over to his little hole-house, and started walking in that direction. 

“I’m listening,” Snufkin followed, clasping his hands behind his back. “But why?”

“Because he’s been terribly selfish to Moomintroll lately, and I feel like teaching him a lesson. Moomintroll’s been very distraught about it, you see. Also, it’s fun.” 

“Oh?” Aha, now she’d caught his attention. 

“I’ve also done this before,” she stopped and turned to Snufkin, a sharp smirk on her face. “And he got so fed up that he’s left a ‘keep-out’ sign on his door.”

Snufkin grinned.

“Well we can’t have that, can we?”

“I’ve been waiting for the right time to strike. Come on!”

They crept over towards the home. Little My was so small her footsteps hardly made a sound, and Snufkin’s forest-accustomed feet knew exactly where to step to avoid any grass or leaves crunching under his boots. 

She went over to where she’d left a bucket of necessary items the day before, hidden behind a bush. It contained a can of Moominmamma’s worst whipped cream (a failed experiment she’d handed to Little My with a resigned sigh), a bottle of canola oil she found forgotten in the back of the pantry, a match, and a whole lot of twine. 

“Don’t worry,” Little My said when she saw Snufkin’s raised eyebrow. “We’re not going to hurt him.”

“I just don’t want to get arrested again. It would be the... what, fourth time?” He started counting on his fingers. 

“I’m not even going to ask.” She shook her head. “You handle the sign and floors, I’ve got the whipped cream and bucket-twine situation.”

“Got it.”

They set out to work with frightening efficiency. Little My had never been able to get this much done so quickly before—whenever she tried pranks with Moomintroll he always ended up worrying over every little detail, and then feeling bad and taking it all down.

She opened the door to Sniff’s home (Moominvalley doors were hardly ever locked) and snuck through into his bedroom, where she coated his paws in whipped cream. She moved over to the front door. Snufkin replaced her, pouring canola oil in a trail from the bedroom doorway to the front door (making sure Sniff wouldn’t hit any corners on the way). Little My ran outside to the stream, filled the bucket with water, and managed to drag it all the way back (her arms were quite sore afterwards). She did end up needing Snufkin’s help to hold the the thing up while she tied it to the top of the doorframe, though. 

They both (carefully) went outside, and Snufkin snatched the paper sign off of the door and lit the match. They both watched it burn with the satisfaction of a job well done. 

The next morning, the valley awoke to the sound of a very wet, very sticky, very greasy Sniff crying that horrible creatures had gotten to him in the night, and they were certainly coming for the whole valley! (He needed to be comforted by Moominmamma all day.) 

Moomintroll even launched an investigation to try and find the culprit, helped out by his trusty sidekicks Snufkin and Little My. But alas, the criminal was never found.

—————

It was almost winter. 

Little My could practically smell it in the air. The leaves were lovely shades of scarlet, orange, and gold, and fog blanketed the valley, lending it a fuzzy, dreamlike feeling. 

She quickly stepped outside into the crisp early morning, preparing to go scavenging on the beach for anything the autumn storms had brought in. The Moomins were already beginning to slow down for the winter, a thousand years of instinct pushing them towards hibernation, so she was the only one awake. 

She paused when she reached the bridge. 

Snufkin’s tent was gone. 

That wasn’t... odd, necessarily. It had happened a few times before, and he always ended up just camping in the nearby forest. 

(But she could smell winter in the air.)

The little leftover campfire was freezing cold, free of even a few ashes. 

So... he was gone. 

..._When_ had he gone?

The last time she could remember seeing him was days ago, before the whole maid fiasco, before Ninny—how had he just vanished like that? How had she not noticed? How had _Moomintroll_ not noticed?

She couldn’t even see his footsteps on the forest trail. 

(...She hoped he was alright.)

—————

“You’re a horrible person." 

"I'm sorry?"

A few months later saw Snufkin on the bridge over the stream, backpack still slung over his shoulders, his hat low over his eyes. In front of him was an awfully offended Little My. 

"You heard me. A horrible, terrible person." 

"And why, pray tell, am I so horrid?" He cocked his head. 

"You left, without saying a thing! We didn't even know you'd gone!" She threw up her arms in exasperation. 

"It's always better that way. We don't need any tearful goodbyes."

"Well not tearful ones," she scrunched up her nose, "but certainly _a_ goodbye would be nice." 

"I'm never gone all that long from all of your perspectives, anyway. It really doesn't matter all that much." He started to move past her, but she held up a hand. 

"What if something happens to you out there, then? What if you can't come back, or you have to take an extra season because you've gotten hurt, or sick? Hm? What then? Think, Pointy! Think with your brain!" She stomped her foot. Snufkin sighed, but at least he looked properly chastised. She didn't care that he needed to run off for a few business months to refill his how-much-socialization-I-can-handle bucket. But darnit if he ever went off without saying anything again—

"Alright, alright. Fine.” 

“Good.” She nodded decisively, and then moved to let him pass. 

“And really? The ‘Pointy’ thing again?” He stopped and looked back at her, smiling slightly. 

“You can’t deny it until I’m wrong,” she said airily, holding out her hands in a ‘well what can you do,’ motion. 

“Heh.” He looked around at the valley, still asleep in the early morning. “It’s good to be back.”

“Yeah, yeah, quit being all sentimental.“ She rolled her eyes, but there was no malice behind the gesture. He grinned back at her, and started setting up his tent. 

—————

The Mymble was here to visit. So... things were going _great_.

At least it was spring, this time. Ever since Little My had started hibernating with the rest of the Moomins, she’d realized how awful it must have been that she and her family had showed up to wreck their house in the middle of winter. 

Everyone (being awake and in the valley now) had been called in to help with the sudden influx of Little My’s younger siblings. It was going about as well as you’d expect. 

For Little My, it was all in a day’s work. After her older siblings had all left for greener pastures, she’d been the designated babysitter. The children listened to her (usually) and at the very least knew she’d go through with all of her threats. 

The Moomins weren’t having as much success. The children were walking all over Moomintroll (literally and figuratively), and had managed to trap Moominpappa in the linen closet. They’d run right into Moominmamma during a game of tag, and she’d spilled pastry dough and flour all over the kitchen. And herself. 

Sniff wasn’t doing much better. He appeared to have given up long ago, and was now laying on the floor, occasionally groaning, as Myttzi and Mylo led a brigade of children that were painting makeup all over his face. Snorkmaiden was being chased by a squad of little ones holding model airships, tripping over loose toys and stubbing her toes on doorframes in her desperation to get away. 

Little My wasn’t sure why the Moomins even bothered bringing Snufkin along. Yeah, sure, he was actually good with kids—but the second the first plate had shattered and screams had rung out, he’d just about bolted. Little My had been practically holding him in place since, while he pulled his hat farther and farther down over his ears. 

“Your mother won’t stop looking at me,” Snufkin hissed in her ear. 

“Perhaps it’s your ridiculous hat.” Little My rolled her eyes and tried to keep baby Mymmie from smacking her head on the edge of the table. He wasn’t wrong, though. Mymblemamma _had_ been giving him odd glances for a while now. 

“My hat is fine,” he muttered, looking very much like he wanted to disappear behind it. 

“Well, we cant worry about any of that now. We need to get everyone together for dinner. My mother obviously isn’t going to be much help today, she’s far too tired, and everyone else here is... _indisposed_.” Mymmie once again tried to commit concussion by table edge, and Little My sighed. 

“...Idea.” Snufkin suddenly stood, and pulled his hat back to its original position, though slightly crooked. 

“Oh yeah?”

He looked sidelong at her, smiled, and held up his harmonica. 

“Oh, okay, so you’re a genius.” Little My grinned. 

A classic rendition of “All Small Beasts Should Have Bows in their Tails” rang out through Moominhouse, catching the attention of all the little Mymbles. They all grinned and danced towards Snufkin, practically shouting the lyrics in a messy unison, and like some sort of pied piper he led them to the dinner table. Little My helped Moominmamma clean up the last of the spilled baking supplies. Moominmamma smiled gratefully, brushed herself off, and pulled a a casserole fit for thirty out of the oven. 

“Think you could do it again for bedtime?” Little My asked after Snufkin had pocketed his harmonica. His idea had worked shockingly well. Now if Mymblemamma could learn a musical instrument, it would make all of their lives much easier. (The problem would, of course, be trying to find the time.) 

“I don’t see why not,” he shrugged. “I’ll see you all in a bit,” he waved, and headed for the door. All of the Mymble children started begging him not to go, yelling from the tables that had been pushed together to form one extra-long dinner table. 

“Oh come now,” Little My rolled her eyes. Darn vagabonds. She should’ve listened to Mother and never associated with any at all. “You can stay for dinner, can’t you?” 

“I don’t think you all need another mouth to feed—I can just return when you need my help again.” He expertly dodged a spoon flung in his direction by a particularly upset Mymmie. 

“Nonsense!” Moominmamma called from the kitchen. 

Snufkin looked torn. How ridiculous. So Little My grabbed his hand, pulled him back from the entryway into the dining area, and shoved a plate of casserole into his hand. 

“So _there_.” She stomped her foot for emphasis. 

Somehow, they managed to avoid any food fights (which were almost a daily occurrence when Little My had lived at home), and it was bedtime for the little ones. 

Snufkin’s cheerful harmonica led the children to Moomintroll’s bedroom (it had taken some convincing for him to give it up for the night). Moominpappa handled the storytelling, and the older children listened in. (They all knew Moominpappa’s stories weren’t exactly reliable, but hey, they were still entertaining.)

Once he’d finished, only the children were left in the darkened bedroom. The older ones began to file out. 

“Um...”

“What is it,” Little My (who was the last to leave) grumbled from halfway out the door. 

“It’s really really dark in here,” Mylo whispered. 

“That’s because it’s nighttime.”

“But—“

“But _what?_” 

“But what if we can’t sleep?”

“Oh for the love of—“

“I can help,” Snufkin said quietly from the hallway. 

Well, if he wanted to be the music man again, that was fine with her. 

“Be my guest,” she waved him in. “I’m going to bed.” 

She didn’t, though. For whatever reason she couldn’t seem to fathom, she leaned against the wall from outside, and listened. 

The harmonica’s music had lost its joyful energy, and the the song Snufkin was playing was slow, soft, and... almost sad. Not quite, though. Melancholy, maybe? ...She wasn’t good with music. 

It wasn’t until Little My noticed that she was humming along that she realized she _knew_ that song. That it was Mymblemamma’s lullaby, and Little My hadn’t heard it since she was practically a baby. 

The music faded, and Snufkin gently opened the door, left, and closed it behind him. 

“That was very kind of you,” Little My said.

“It was the least I could do.”

“Where did you learn it?”

“Hm?”

“The song. Where did you learn it?”

“You know... I... can’t remember. Weird.” He put away his harmonica, and tightened his scarf.

“Good night, Little My.” 

“See ya, Pointy.”

*

(“Who was that boy?” The Mymble asked the Moomin parents late that night. “The one with the hat.”

“Oh, Snufkin? That’s Moomintroll’s best friend. He stays in the valley during the warmer months.” Moominmamma pulled a deck of cards out from a drawer and began shuffling. 

“He looks a lot like someone we used to know,” the Mymble looked over at Moominpappa. 

“He rather does, doesn’t he? Very strange.”

“Yes... very strange, indeed.”) 

—————

The Mymbles left after only staying for a week. Little My felt guilty admitting to herself that she was relieved they were gone, and then embarrassed to admit she was guilty, so it all just sort of came together in a ball of irritable nerves. 

She was taking it out on the poor ocean. It was as far as she could get from home without leaving the valley—the Moomins’ conditions for how far they were allowed to wander. She tossed pebble after shell after piece of driftwood into the waves—at first trying to skip stones, but quickly failing, and eventually she ended up just throwing bits and pieces as hard as she could. 

“So this is where you ran off to.” 

She started, and turned to see Snufkin had joined her, holding onto his hat with one hand in the ocean breeze. 

“What do you want?”

He didn’t respond. He sat down in the sand next to her, and when his hat tried to make a break for it, he took it off and sat on it with a frown. His hair was horribly messy, but in the bright beach sunlight it was a dusty auburn. (Not unlike her her own hair, still pulled back as tight as she could get it.)

With a huff, she plopped down next to him. 

They sat there quietly for a while, the silence only broken by the gently crashing waves, the cries of a seagull, or Little My throwing a rock into the ocean with all of her strength. 

Snufkin took a deep breath. 

“I never knew my family,” he said. “For as long as I can remember, until I came to Moominvalley, it was just me. I love to wander and travel, and I never really thought I needed anything else, but the longer I’m here, the more I’m not sure.” The words seemed to fall from him, jumbled and awkward, but honest.

He looked at her expectantly. 

Little My wanted to say a lot of things to that, but the foremost thought in her mind was _why are you telling me this, you never even tell Moomintroll things like that—_

And she looked at his expression, and realized—oh. 

A thought for a thought, a story for a story. A secret for a secret. 

She hadn’t quite realized how clearly she’d been upset.

She looked away.

“Except for the past couple of years, I’ve spent my whole life with Mother and my siblings. It’s a very loud place, that house. Always someone running, someone throwing something, someone screaming. I grew up in that noise—learned to thrive in it, I suppose. There were children born before me—my sister Mymble is the eldest, and she’s the one who really took care of me, since Mother was always so very busy, but... you know. Mymble grew up. Left to go make her own way. And all the other older children left too, after a while. Leaving me the oldest one left—still too young to leave, but too old to be with the rest.” She took a particularly smooth stone, ran her thumb across it, and the launched it into the waves, savoring the splash.

“I had to help take care of them all. Mother has awful luck with men. Most get too frightened of being part of such a large family and leave as soon as they can. I... don’t think I blame Mother for it, she really does try, and I didn’t really mind helping out—but...”

Little My grabbed a fistful of sand and let the grains run through her fingers. 

“I made a nuisance of myself. I didn’t really care, then. I was mostly just trying to be as awful as I could. I’m not... I’m not sure why? There’s some reason for it in my stupid story somewhere, but I don’t know it.” She sighed. “And then we came to visit the Moomins, and this valley, Moomintroll and Moominpappa and Moominmamma—it all just seemed so much _better._ The others were all too young to even imagine living apart from Mother—but I wanted to stay here. So I... found a way to stay here. And that was that.” She threw a small stick of driftwood, but it didn’t splash very hard, so she patted around the sand to find a good rock or shell to throw. She found one, and didn’t even bother admiring it before throwing it into the water. 

“I’m happier here. I was right, it’s _better_ here. But sometimes I miss them—this valley is so quiet, sometimes. But then they actually come to visit—and, and it’s great for the first few days, but after that—I started—I wanted—“

She grabbed another fistful of sand, feeling the way the grit pressed into her hands. 

“I—I wanted them to leave,” she managed to finish. “I wanted them to leave, can you believe that? What kind of awful daughter am I that I want my family to go away?” 

She let the sand in her fist fall. 

“I don’t think you’re an awful daughter,” Snufkin said—slowly, carefully. Almost contemplative. And it sounded like the answer he was going to give was going to be honest, because of that. (Not like the Moomins, who’d say anything to make you feel better. It was so hard to get a straight answer out of them sometimes.) 

So she listened. (That, and she was just too tired to keep going.)

“Not a lot of children are willing to help take care of their siblings, I think. It sounds like a lot of responsibility for a child. It’s no wonder you were unhappy a lot of the time.” 

He turned to her suddenly, fiddling with his hands.

“I’m not very good at making people feel better.” He seemed to be forcing himself to make eye contact. (She appreciated the effort.) “But I can tell you what I think, if that’s alright?” 

“Well, go on then,” Little My urged. 

“I think you found—another family. With the Moomins,” he said. “And I think being with the Moomins made you realize that you—you could be a child, here. Be Little My, not Little Mymble. And the Mymbles are still your family, and that’s why you miss them. But they’re not the family you’re better off with, and that’s why you can’t stay with them. Miss Mymble sounds like she did what she could—but there’s only so much one person can do.” 

She thought about that for a moment.

“I think... I think you might just be right,” Little My said. She laughed softly. 

“I used to think Mother was the greatest person in the world. I’m not all that sure what to think, now.” 

“You shouldn’t put people on pedestals,” Snufkin said quietly. “No one deserves to be thought of as perfect. And no one deserves all that anger and disappointment when the pedestal is broken.”

They were both silent for a moment. 

“...People are people,” Little My shrugged. 

“That they are,” Snufkin said. 

“We... should head back.” Little My stood, and brushed the sand off of her dress. “Moomintroll’s probably already found a way to blame himself for our apparent ‘kidnapping’ ten times over.”

Snufkin chuckled softly and followed suit, trying to reshape his hat. He eventually got it to somewhat resemble its original form, and shoved it onto his head, although there were a more than a few large dents in the fabric. 

“I’ll bet you the rest of my coffee that he’s gotten a whole search party together.”

“I’m not an idiot, Pointy. You can’t trick me. Of _course_ he’s gotten a search party together,” she huffed indignantly. Snufkin covered a laugh with his hand too late, which made Little My start laughing, making Snufkin finally lose it and start fully laughing with her. 

She climbed up his shoulders to the top of his hat and hung on, and they were still laughing when they made it back to Moominhouse. 

—————

(Somewhere, years ago, a little girl with red hair pulled back as tight as her Mamma could manage is holding her new baby brother for the first time. He’s so tiny he doesn’t even have a name yet. He’s even tinier than her!

And he’s so quiet, too. The other kids are gonna eat him up alive. 

She’ll keep him safe, though. Even if Mamma says he’ll be better off with his Daddy. She’s gonna protect him as much as she can, even though she’s so very small, and they’ll go on lots of adventures. It’ll be great!)

**Author's Note:**

> _Tell your brother to be good_   
_Tell your sister not to go_   
_Tell your mother not to wait_   
_Tell your father I was good_


End file.
